


The Singing Sea

by goatniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, zarriall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6289618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goatniall/pseuds/goatniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Zarriall AU set in Tofino, on Vancouver Island, BC. It's kinda like vignettes, I guess. For Zarriall week!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Singing Sea

1.  
It’s raining.

Of course it is, Niall thinks, laughing as he fidgets in his too-warm gum boots. A day on the west coast without rain is like a day without night. 

Niall had grown up in Tofino, born in the same hospital as his parents and raised in a cabin in Ucluelet on the water. He has the ocean in his veins, and on days like today - a chilly January morning - he feels more at home with his boots hanging off the side of a boat than he does in his childhood bedroom. He likes it best during the off season, when tourists are scarce and the waves crash higher and carry his board further though the tide.

If you glanced at him, you’d see a twenty-something guy with fading blonde hair sticking out from under his hood, bundled in rain gear with a fishing pole in one hand and a beer in the other. Some days he listened to the conversations of seagulls as he fished, but today it’s Great Big Sea on a loop in his headphones. It reminds him of his Irish grandma and road trips on twisting roads across the island, stopping at Cathedral Grove to see the ancient trees tower over him, and spilling Tiger Tiger ice cream down his shirt when he brayed back at the goats on the roof in Coombs. 

He kicks his feet against the side of the boat, rubber soles slipping against rusted metal. It’s an old wreck that Harry had picked up a few years ago and converted into a fish and chips shop. Business was seasonal but Harry had turned half the vessel into living quarters, his bedroom in a loft upstairs. Niall’d had his own place for a while, but he was on the boat most of the time anyways, so he’d moved in, too. Harry ran the restaurant and when the fish cooperated, Niall supplied the goods. 

An old hippie van rattles around the corner, drawing his attention to the figure who stumbles from its side - too far away to tell yet, with the fog, but a young man with dark hair, maybe. Niall watches the animated gestures between him and the van’s driver before it speeds off. The rain spits down in sheets and Niall goes back to watching the fishing rod weave back and forth in the waves. He picks at the chipping paint on the soaked railings, thick flecks of red-over-white-over-yellow falling into the sea. 

A voice behind him, words blown away before he could catch them--

He turns to see the boy from the van, his hoodie soaked and hair slicked to his face. A pretty face, Niall thinks absently, hopping from his perch to rest the fishing pole against the hull.

“You alright, man?”

The boy blinks hard, opens his mouth and shuts it, grimacing.

“Your friends?” Niall nods towards the road.

“Um, yeah.”

He sighs, noting how the boy is trying to hide the fact that he’s shivering.

“You’d better come with me, then.”

~

Before letting the guy - Zayn - in the house, he’d given him a towel and some sweatpants and a sweater and sent him to the small bathroom on the dock outside the boat. He’s inside greeting Harry, who’s got his hands covered in flour and dough, when he hears Bob Marley and a familiar mechanic whir, immediately followed by a startled yelp. He’d argued that the singing bass above the toilet was too corny, but Harry loved it so much he’d let it go. Every time Harry went for a pee he’d sing along, and Niall would have ‘don’t worry, be happy’ stuck in his head all day. 

“What’re you making today?” he asks, stealing a taste of the dough from the kitchen counter. 

“A nut cake!” Harry grins.

“You’re a nut cake,” he says, kissing Harry’s cheek and finding flour there, too.

Harry leans into his side, laughing. “How were the fish today?”

“They were busy,” Niall says, “out at their fish jobs, doing fish things.”

Harry nods, humming like what Niall’s just said made sense. It was only a few years ago that they’d met at the restaurant - Niall an eager customer and Harry a nervous new business owner - but it feels like a home, here. The smell of Harry’s shoes and finding his hair in his food are normal to him now, the smell of fish guts a familiar and comforting one. The two of them work hard to keep the restaurant presentable, and try to mask the smell of fish with scented candles and baked bread. The livable portion of the boat is fairly small, but Niall prides himself on his home decorating sensibility and managed to make it functional for the two of them. A cedar blanket box sits in the corner beside their old couch, its smell emanating through the room. A used paper coffee cup sits on top of it, the rim rolled and a free doughnut waiting for him at Timmies, next time he goes. Next to the cup is a polaroid camera that Harry carries around with him, and behind that on the window sill is a row of potted plants. Niall never touches them for fear of over-watering them, and Harry takes great lengths to ensure that each gets just enough sun and not too much, and that they have room to grow in their pot. He says he must have been a witch in a past life, and Niall laughs. 

The door to the boathouse creaks open, and Niall turns towards their guest, pulling a toque down over his numb ears. Zayn looks vaguely embarrassed, sweatpants rolled up to his ankles. Him and Harry stare back at him as he stands looking like a fish out of water, or a deer in the headlights, or some other bad metaphor. The silence between them is uncomfortable, and Niall bites at his cuticles, until Harry realizes it’s up to him, and says, “want some banana bread?”

And with that, they sit across from each other over steaming cups of tea and Harry’s baking, and the stranger who stepped into their lives dripping rain on the carpet becomes just another part of their life. 

2\. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never been surfing before,” Niall huffs as he drags his boogie board behind him. “You say you grew up on the island, but now I’m not so sure.”

Zayn just laughs back at him, and Niall feels his smile like sun on his skin after a long winter. They’re both outfitted in skin-tight wetsuits that seem to emphasize Niall’s gut and his chicken legs, but somehow Zayn looks good in it, damn him. He shares this with Zayn, who unhelpfully adds that some people like chicken legs. 

It’s a good day for surfing, the skies dark with the threat of rain and a strong wind stealing the words between him and Zayn. The tide roars ahead of them, spitting sand onto the beach and tugging at their toes as it pulls back. 

“I didn’t know how to swim, for a while, and I used to be really scared of the ocean,” Zayn shrugs, looking embarrassed. “Saw Jaws as a kid and have been terrified ever since, not to mention the reassuring presence of tsunami warning sirens around town.”

“You know what to do if they go off, right?” Niall checks, frowning.

“Run like fuck,” he laughs.

“Yeah, pretty much. I like to think that the boat would just ride it out,” Niall says, “we’d just unmoor it and sail right over it.”

Zayn laughs, and looking at him, Niall’s suddenly grateful for Harry agreeing to take him into their fold. He’d seemed like kind of a wet blanket at first, sleeping half the scarce daylight away and not interested in the two of them's regular routine the rest of the day, but he’d found his own, eventually. He does wish Harry were here now though, he could trust him like no one else to watch for rocks and undertows, always packing snacks and water bottles in his scuba bag, making Niall choke on his homemade granola bars when he’d pull faces in his snorkel as he got ready. Zayn had a lot to live up to, but he felt optimistic about the afternoon ahead of them. Harry was far past needing Niall’s instructions like he used to, and he was looking forward to being the teacher again. 

They drop their bag next to a driftwood log, Niall removing his glasses and slipping them inside. 

“You’re such a hipster shit, you know that right?”

“Oh, like you don’t ride that scooter around town every change ya get, dickhead.”

Zayn shoves him into the sand, running into the surf before Niall can grab at his ankles. Oh, he’ll get what’s coming to him, Niall glowered, as soon as he was sure that Zayn actually could swim. He grabs his board and joined him, forgetting his revenge as soon as he gets his board under hand. 

God, Niall thinks, there’s nothing like it. He’d grown up along the coast, swam in the ocean more than any lake or swimming pool, but it still made his breath catch every time he faced the endless sea. Even knowing full well the dangers of the ocean and the very continent he stood on, he couldn't imagine living anywhere else. When the Big One hit, he just hoped to not be alone in the aftermath, if he made it that far. 

Zayn’s voice pulls him away from that line of thought, and Niall’s grateful for it. 

“Sorry, was lost for a sec there. What’s up?”

“You said you were gonna show me how to use this thing?” 

“Right, sorry. First thing you gotta know is…”

He ends up talking for a good 15 minutes as Zayn shivers silently, telling him about tides and hidden rocks and the best way to use your own body weight to lean into the waves and—

“C’mon, Niall, let’s go already,” he whines, hopping on the spot to keep warm. “I’ve got fuckin’ ice water going from my hand straight to my dick, and something's gonna fall off if I don’t move around.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go.”

Zayn’s pitiable as he crashes around in the waves, coughing up salt water and wiping it out of his eyes, but Niall sees the delight in his eyes when he manages to catch a few feet on his board. Himself, he’s an old pro, his muscle memory doing the thinking for him and his trained eye able to anticipate the best waves by their distant height and how soon they break. He treads water for a minute, watching the sway of the cedars and arbutus along the coast, black dots of eagles silenced by the howling wind. Later he’d take Zayn to his favourite cove, point out the sea otters and seals hiding among the kelp forests, but for now, he just floats in the arms of the ocean.

3.  
Zayn’s on his phone in the old armchair, looking up whale watching tours as Niall and Harry fight over a game of Backgammon. Half the board games they owned were falling apart; puzzle pieces held together with duct tape, monopoly boards with game pieces of shells and rocks instead of Niall’s preferred thimble. He’d thrown the board across the room in frustration a few years ago, and half the pieces and cards fell through the gaps in the floorboards never to be seen again. The memory just makes him grumpier, at his own competitiveness and the growing suspicion that Harry was cheating, somehow. 

“Stop glaring at me,” Harry pouts, “you said you were gonna play nice this time.”

“This is me playing nice.”

“You’re just mad that you can’t beat me even when you’re cheating,” he says, grabbing Nialls sleeve and shaking out the cards hidden within it. 

“I swear I don’t know how those got there…”

Zayn looks up suddenly. “Put the game away guys, we’re going to the aquarium.”

Harry drops Nialls arm, frowning. “Aquariums aren’t nice, Zayn.”

Niall agrees silently, putting on his best “judging you” face, but Zayn seems to not notice, shoving his phone towards the two of them instead.

“Look, it’s a seasonal aquarium, it’s only local stuff, and they release them every summer, so it’s not actually bad for them, you see?”

Harry seems to mellow out at this new information, but Niall’s still skeptical. He’d done a few years of a marine biology degree before dropping out to help Harry on the boat, and he doubts the truth of this claim, but Zayn looks excited. He sighs heavily, dropping his cards to the floor and stretching out his legs. He supposes it was worth checking out, if only to prove the others wrong. 

The three of them move out into the makeshift foyer, divided from the rest of the boat by knotted bead curtains, and Niall pulls on his gum boots and rain jacket, poking his head out the door to check how cold it is. Not too bad, but you never knew what it’d be like in an hour. Could be clear and sunny, for all he knew. Most likely it’d just keep on raining, but still. Zayn insists on wearing his leather jacket, and pushes Harry away as he tries to pull a toque over his ears. Niall grabs his wallet before walking out to their beat up old Ford Escort. It’s rusted and dented, what little of the vehicle you can see under the myriad of bumper stickers along it’s back. He’d gotten it second or thirdhand, already decorated in billabong symbols and surf shop logos, and him and Harry’d made an effort to cover the entire surface of the old car. He hops into the front seat, adjusts his rearview mirror, and blasts his beach boys best of CD while waiting for the others to join him.

 

4.  
“See, now this is marine biology!”

The aquarium had actually been pretty cool, much to Niall’s chagrin, but he still insisted on taking a trip down to see the real thing, as he called it. The tide is out, and tidal pools teemed with life around them. 

Harry looks at him with a mixture of distaste and amusement, while Zayn just stares in horror as Niall shoves a handful of live crabs into his mouth. They skitter around on his tongue, tasting sharply of salt and sand. He bugs out his eyes at Zayn, showing him the dozen or so critters in his wide open mouth.

“That’s sick!”

Niall spits them out into his hands. “Thanks, man!”

“No,” Zayn continues, “like, disgusting. You’re gross.”

He grins anyway, gently putting the crabs back down to crawl back under the rocks. Before Zayn knows what’s coming, Niall grabs his shoulders and smacks a wet kiss right on him.

“Ew, what the hell, Niall!” Zayn cries out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve frantically. Harry just laughs, having already been the victim of the same prank when he first met Niall. 

Once Zayn calms down, Niall shows him how to tell the difference between male and female crabs, turning them on their backs to show the lighthouse or beehive pattern on their stomachs. He shows him the best way to pop the heads of the kelp whips that float ashore, and the swirling patterns of magnetite in the sand as it flows towards the ocean. 

~

Harry sits on a log to the side, digging his toes into the cold sand. Zayn had left his sketchbook with Niall’s backpack resting against the log, and while the two of them are distracted, Harry picks it up and leafs through it. 

You could see the moment where Zayn first came to the west coast in his drawings. His sketches of forest scenery and the profiles of two young men unknown to Harry turn into the more familiar coastal landscape, with detailed close ups of sea shells and the seals that barked as they lay out on the rocks by the boat house. There’s a couple drawings of him and Niall, the marks getting more confident as Harry goes on. There’s a few sketches in charcoal that he accidentally smudges with his fingertips, and tries to wipe off on his jeans before anyone notices. 

“Hey, that’s mine!”

Harry looks up sharply, his face suddenly warm. Niall's laughing with a couple walking their two golden retrievers up the beach, too far away to hear their conversation.

“I was just--”

“You could’ve asked, y’know.”

Zayn stares down at him, expression guarded, and Harry buries his head in his hands.

“I’m the worst.”

He hears Zayn move to sit beside him, their legs brushing. 

“I don’t really mind, you know. I’d have shown you if you’d asked.”

His voice is kind, and that almost makes it worse. 

“You’re really good,” Harry mumbles. “At art, I mean.”

Zayn laughs. “Thanks, man.” He wraps his arm around Harrys shoulder and after a moment, Harry tucks his cold nose into Zayns neck, making him laugh again before shoving him off.

Niall’s got crabs in his mouth again in the distance, showing off to the couple he’d no doubt befriended already, and his voice carries on the wind to meet them in snippets. He’s laughing too, because he always is, and with that thought Harry leans back into Zayn again, eyes closed.

 

5.  
Niall’s favourite pub also happens to be the closest one to them, within walking distance if you don’t mind the rain, and every Tuesday they do a burger and a beer for ten bucks. Burger beer night had become a bit of a tradition for him, Harry tagging along nearly every week to catch up with friends and enjoy the evening out. Niall had invited Zayn along a number of times before he finally agreed to go, and he was anxious to introduce him to everyone. There’s less than 2000 people who actually lived in town year-round, so Niall knew pretty much everyone there was to know. Since he’d brought Harry first a few years ago, they’d started a tradition of posting polaroids on the wall that Harry would take, candids of people laughing into their drinks or trying to hide from the camera while they ate. There was only one with Harry in it pinned to the wall, but it was Niall’s favourite -- an embarrassed Harry with his face pressed close to Nialls as he tried to get both of them in the shot. 

“Hey boys, the usual?” yells a small but loud woman from the bar, turning away before they can answer. 

Zayn trails behind them as they go to their table, the same one Niall’s been sitting at for years, now. 

“Christ, I’m old,” he grumbles, sitting down heavily. “Haven’t been to another pub in ages, I swear my ass’s got it’s own imprint in my seat.”

“That’s why no one else sits here, ‘cause your butt print is uncomfortable,” Harry says.

“Your butt print is uncomfortable!”

“Hey…”  
Niall laughs with Harry for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the small building and the familiar company. He looks over at Zayn, who’s trying his best to look relaxed. 

“You cool with me introducing you around, Z?”

“Um, sure, if you want.”

“Of course I want to! You’re one of us, now, and people ought to know.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, “gotta show off that pretty face of yours!”

Their burgers show up just as Zayn was about to say something in reply, and Niall’s glad for the distraction. Him and Zayn both have the typical burger and beer combo, but Harry’s gone for a veggie burger and a coke. Zayn laughs and opens his mouth to say something, but Niall shakes his head. He’d made enough jokes the first few times he took Harry here, and the last thing he wanted was to make Harry cry again. It felt like kicking a puppy or something, and Harry always got snot on Niall’s shirt when he cried. 

Friends come up to their booth to say hi, checking in on Niall’s family and asking Harry what he’s been up to at the restaurant. Zayn’s quiet but charming, laughing along with their jokes and shaking hands with everyone who offers. As someone who gets along with everyone, Niall’s always nervous about his friends liking each other and actually getting on, so he’s pleased to see that his friends seem to be taking a liking to Zayn. 

One of the bartenders steals him away for a game of darts, and he shrugs apologetically at the two of them before leaving. 

“People like him,” Harry whispers unnecessarily in his ear, “and I think the new girl like-likes him.”

Niall looks over at Zayn and the bartender, who’s showing him the proper way to throw a dart. 

“Coulda shown him that myself,” Niall mutters. 

“Hey, don’t be weird about him, okay? You promised you wouldn’t be weird.”

Niall takes another sip of his beer instead of answering.

“Remember how you got when your old classmate was flirting with me the first time you brought me out here?”

“I remember him being all over you, if that’s what you mean…”

“Well, you were a dummie back then and you’re being a dummie again now. So stop it.”

He doesn’t say anything until Harry kicks him from under the table, pouting at him.

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

“Say it.”

Niall sighs. “I’m a dummie.”

“There you go!” Harry pokes his cheek. “Now smile and look happy, he’s coming back.”

Of course, as soon as Zayn comes back he’s sitting half on Niall’s lap, staring back at him to ask about old stories of him growing up here. He’s asking about his Dad again, hinting pretty heavily that he wants to meet him, so Niall supposes they’re okay. The only reason they haven’t yet met is that his Dad’s out visiting family on the mainland, anyway. Harry’s giving him this I-told-you-so look from across the booth which Niall ignores as best he can, suddenly immeasurably glad he has someone to keep him in check. He wraps his arm around Zayn’s middle, digging his fingers in to make his squirm and giggle, and finally looks up at Harry. Whatever Harry sees on his face makes his own soften, and Niall wishes he could spend every evening of his life here, in the pub with the radio on loud, a cold beer in his hand and all his favourite people surrounding him.

 

6\. (extra chapter - karaoke)

Harry’s the first up from their group, doing a soulful rendition of Shania Twain’s Man! I Feel Like a Woman. Niall watches Zayn’s face for half the performance, going from disbelief to impressed and back. Harry’s dancing along and totally playing the crowd, flipping his hair once or twice when the song calls for it. He’s totally serious too, and Niall loves him for it. He’s seen far too many macho dudes belting out Gaga in bad wigs for laughs, or people ironically singing Sir Mixalot. Harry’s something else, though. 

He bows, sends a few kisses to the crowd and sits back down at their booth, hair sticking to the sweat on his brow. Niall kisses him there, he can’t help it. Zayn’s babbling on about his vocal technique or something, making him even more flushed, so Niall sinks back into the leather seats and watches the crowd. 

“Hey Zayn, you gonna go up there?”

“I dunno, I…” He looks back at Niall, frowning. “Are you?”

“Always do.”  
“Well, maybe. If you go first-”

“Nah, sorry,” Niall cuts him off, “already made the host promise me last song. But you should still go, Z, you’re good, I’ve heard you when you’re in the shower. What’s that song you like? The one from that new Disney film with the snowman, whatsit called…”

“Shut up, fine! If you don’t tell anyone about that, I’ll go already, I’ll go...”

Zayn sings a few songs later, covering Drake’s Hold On We’re Going Home and winning over the entire room. Niall plays footsie with Harry under the table, happy for him but a little worried about the look on some people’s faces as they stare at him.

“Should we be worried?” He says offhand, not really thinking about it.

“Hm?”  
“About Zayn, I mean.”

Harry frowns at him, not getting it.

“Like, look at everyone. He could have any of them, y’know?”

“We did introduce him to people…”.

“Yeah, but like, not as our boyfriend. Hell, we haven’t even talked about that yet! Maybe we’re just like really handsy friends to him!”

Harry pats him lightly on the cheek, as if it were a slap. “Shush, Niall.”

“But-”

“Shhh. It’s okay. See, look.”

Niall follows his gaze to the stage, where Zayn’s done singing and is waving at them, smiling so wide his cheeks must hurt. Niall sags back into the booth, grumbling.

He whispers the track number to the MC, takes the mic and walks onto stage before the song’s intro starts to play. He catches Harry’s eye when it starts up, hand covering his mouth as he laughs. Zayn’s next to him, smiling too.  
He always gets the jitters when he’s on a stage, but looking back at Harry and Zayn somehow makes it a bit easier. He squints into the stage lights, takes a deep breath and starts to sing.

~~~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TeccAtqd5K8  
(nialls song)

**Author's Note:**

> I made a playlist for this, too: http://8tracks.com/cryptides/sea-to-sky
> 
> Please feel free to give feedback or criticism! I'm not entirely happy with this but wanted to finish it. 
> 
> Also my 1d tumblr is goatniall !


End file.
